


Mass Hallucination on the Ballroom Floor

by Aria_i_Adagio



Series: Whatever I've Done - First Draft [8]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Angst, Masquerade, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, poly route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_i_Adagio/pseuds/Aria_i_Adagio
Summary: The Devil is waiting for us.I understand the Magician’s amusement now, when I claimed that Asra and I had seen the Devil.  The idea of a goat standing upright on hooves that should be too small to balance on is where the commonalities between Lucio’s current form and the figure of the Devil begin and end.  The figure in the clearing is dignified - elegant, even - draped in a scarf and a perversion of a priest’s stole.  Lucio smells of petty, weak malice.  The Devil is menace - the threat itself, not some braggart’s boast.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up near the beginning of Temperance. Assume they made it back to the palace and there were some NSFW shenagians, that yours truly just can't get written quite exactly right, even for the purposes of a draft.

Asra edges onto the bed beside me holding a mask - wrapped in silk - in his hand.  He hands me the mask and twines an arm around my shoulders. 

“It’s not actually new.  I hope you don’t mind.”

I unfold the silk.  The half mask underneath is a swirl of colors - cool, jewel tones on one side, warm brights on the other.  A jagged rift, repaired and gilded, cuts across the forehead, the bridge of the nose, and one cheek. I draw my finger along the scar turned beautiful and smile.

“Asra, it’s perfect.”  I lean my head against his shoulder.

“It’s the first one I made for you.  I tried to think of something new, and most people dress as some sort of animal.  But I found this the other day at the shop, and it just still seemed more right than any other one I’ve made for you in the past.”

“Was I ever an animal?”

“A cat, an otter . . .  You said you had a theme - cute and cuddly with violent tendencies.  And one year you didn’t feel like going, so you informed me you were a three toed sloth and spent the week reading books and day drinking in the shop.”  

“Hmm . . . What did you make for Julian?”

“Oh, Ilya’s easy.”  He produces another mask from his bag - a raven.

“Loud, dramatic, and attracted to shiny things.”

“Precisely.  Should we wake him up?”

I turn to where Julian is still curled up next to me and stroke his hair.  He’s smiling slightly in his sleep; for once, his face is at peace. “I feel a bit bad about it, but you know he’ll be mad if he doesn’t get to rabble rouse tonight.”  Leaning over, I kiss his shoulder, then shake it gently. “Julian, wake up. You don’t want to miss the first night of the masquerade entirely.”

He blinks at me, then closes his eyes again.  “Five more minutes.”

“You’ve got until I get rinsed off.”  I stand up and stretch my arms above my head, arching my back.  

“Don’t worry.  I’ll pester him until he wakes up.”   Asra winks at me and slides into bed next to Julian, rubbing his shoulders and nuzzling his neck.  I can think of worse ways to be forced into the waking world.

I shower off quickly and wrap myself up in a towel to dry off.  Asra has Julian sitting up - albeit yawning and rubbing his eyes - when I reemerge.  As he walks past, he grabs my waist and pulls me toward him for a quick kiss. He smirks down at me.  “Don’t worry. I can sleep when I’m dead.”

I laugh - well, cackle really -  and smack his skinny ass. “Ilya Devorak, you are impossible.”

“I know.”  He kisses my forehead again and flees to the bath before I can retaliate.  

 

**~~~**

 

The halls of the palace buzz with revelers.  I hang on tightly to Julian’s arm, trying not to trip over any of the guests.  Julian pulls us both to the side to dodge a herd of drunks in white goat masks.  Some even have glittering red paint about the eyes, glowing in the muted lamplight.  But I don’t feel the malevolent coldness from before or hear any hisses in my ear, so I do my best to ignore them. 

“I had forgotten just how crowded it could get.”  Asra is holding Julian’s other arm. “Do you think we’ll be able to pick out the people Lucio might be planning to use to complete the ritual?”

“Did you bring your cards?  Maybe they’ll help. Resonant with certain guests, or -” I roll my free hand through the air.  “Something like that.”

“It’s worth a try.  I wish I could just remember what I did to sabotage the ritual last time.”

“Let’s get out of the hallway, at least.  Umm.” Julian peers over the heads of the crowd, then catches a break in the foot traffic and pulls us across the hall.  “This room, you’ll like this room - better yet - it has food.”

Julian steers us into a high ceiled chamber, smaller, but no less grand than the main ballroom.  Like the hallway, its draped with fabrics, but these banners glow with the colors of the rainbow.  To one side, a grand buffet is set out, the foods grouped by color and again ordered by the rainbow.  Procurator Volta’s tiny form is working steadily down one side of the buffet, feeding herself directly from the dishes. The rest of the floor is divided, roughly evenly, between tables where small groups of laughing guests are congregating to feast and a dance floor with a corner set aside for a band.  The aroma wafting from the buffet are amazing.

“How long has it been since we ate?”

“Uh, too long.”  Julian drops our arms.  “I’m getting a plate and a table.”  

“Maybe avoid the side the Procurator is on.”

“I'm not that much of an idiot, love.”

Asra pauses as Julian steps away from us, an odd expression on his face.  

“What is it?”  As I take his hand in mine, the light in the room wavers and shifts.  I look down. I can see Asra’s hand, but even though I feel my fingers pressing against his, I can’t see my own.  I look back up. Asra wearing a different mask and costume and his mouth is taut from worry. Nadia is beside us - him - an equally concerned look on her face.

“You seem out of sorts.  I hope you didn’t try the fish pie - much too heavy.”

“No . . . it’s fine.  I’m just -” The voice that speaks is Asra’s.  Shaking hands raise a mug of tea to his mouth, but his throat is too tight to swallow.  His thoughts are overwhelmed by nerves about the planned ritual and his intention to turn it to his own ends.

Nadia smiles sympathetically and pats his arm.  “Asra, know that you have my full support in this endeavor.  I do not wish to see Lucio succeed any more than you do.”

His tension eases a bit and a faint thread of hope rises to the surface of his consciousness.  “Thanks, Nadi. I just . . . I just hope that it’s not too late.”

The light of the room fades in and out, and I can see my hand in Asra’s again.

“What was that?”

“You saw it too?  It must have been one of my memories.  One of the ones I had lost.” He takes off his mask and pinches the bridge of his nose.  “Are you okay? Does your head hurt?” I shake my head and smile slightly. The jump in time was disorienting, but otherwise I feel fine.

He sighs with relief.  “I couldn’t have recalled something more useful, I suppose.”

“Nadia was in on it.  That’s helpful to know.”  I step closer to him. “How am I seeing one of your memories?”

“I -”  Suddenly his face breaks into a warm, delighted smile, and he turns, touching his fingers to my chest, just above my heart.  “I think it has something to do with sharing a heart.” He tucks my head under his chin, takes my hand and presses it to his chest.  I can feel his heart beneath my fingers beating in time with my own. “I didn’t know what it would mean, when I agreed to give up part of heart.  Whether I’d be able to feel anything at all, or would just go through the rest of my life acting, but to share a connection like this, with you, it’s not giving anything up.”

The combined beating of our hearts drowns out the music, at least within the limits of the space between our bodies.  “Maybe we’ll recall some other memories tonight.”

“Maybe.”  He lets me go and puts his mask back on.  “The memory seemed to be somehow attached to this room.”

“What about going back to Lucio’s dining room?”

He presses his lips together in thought then shakes his head.  “No, not unless we have to. We lost almost a whole day when we went in there before.  Besides -” He glances over his shoulder, where Ilya has staked out a table and is waving us to him.  “- there’s no sense searching on an empty stomach.” 

 

~~~

 

Julian has stocked the table with not one, but three filled plates, and has thoughtfully retrieved drinks as well.  Tea for Asra and strong coffee for the two of us. I ruffle his hair, careful not to uncover his right eye, and settle into a chair between the two of them.  Julian has removed his gloves to eat and I surreptitiously glamour the back of his hand to hide the murderer’s mark.

He offers me a crostini topped with a creamy spread.  “Try this, it's absolutely delicious. And Asra, you'll love this.”  He leans across me holding out a tidbit of seared meat for Asra, who bends close and takes the delicacy with his teeth.  Julian laughs.

Asra chews thoughtfully then grins.  “Freshwater eel. Love it.”

The food is amazing, surpassing the previous sumptuous marks I've enjoyed at the palace.  My bite is rich with fresh cheese and sweet from chunks of shellfish. And Ilya delights in suggesting tasty bites, occasionally picking one up to pop into my mouth or Asra's with his fingers.

I finish with a hand sized cherry tart, not too sweet and lean back in my chair with a contented sigh.  Julian even deigned to adulterate my coffee with a splash of cream.

“I can't eat another bite.”

Julian wraps a companionable arm around my shoulders.  “Time to dance?” He glances over at Asra who shakes his head.

“Dema and I recovered a memory of mine.  I'd like to walk around the room and see if I can't find any others.”

I set my empty coffee mug on the table.  “Oh, but the music is so good.”

Asra smiles.  “You and Ilya take a spin.  I'll dance with you before the night is out.”

I get to my feet and lean over Asra’s chair to kiss his cheek, then I extend a hand to Julian.  “I know you’ll dance with me.” He smiles - the same unironic expression of happiness that I first saw earlier - and presses my knuckles to his lips.  

“Of course,  _ solnishka _ .”

He stands and pulls me to the dance floor.  We clasp hands, and he wraps one arm around my back.  I place my other hand on his shoulder, as best I’m able, given the difference in our heights.  “Maybe I should have worn those heels.” Nadia had sent two options. High, delicate stilettos and the embroidered ballet flats I had elected to wear after stumbling awkwardly about the room in the heels.  Obviously, I had simply been imitating a baby giraffe, but I didn't really have the costume for it.

“We, you and I, work fine as dance partners, I promise.”

We fall into the controlled, energetic steps, following the rhythm.  My muscles remember the steps somehow.

“Was I always a dancer?”

Julian laughs.  “You were always good at it - wild and following the rhythm rather than set steps - but I hope you remember learning this dance at some point.”

The steps pull us apart - arms outstretched for a moment.  Close to him, I look up. “Why?” I don't want to have lost the time before forever, but the sense that I will never recover the majority of it has been growing stronger.  Asra and Julian's memories, piecemeal as they are, may be my best chance to understand something off who I was, and what we where.

“I taught you.  We both, erm, needed a distraction at the time.  From everything else.”

“I had a good teacher then.”

We step around each other, and then I lean back into his arm, shivering from his breath across my collarbones.  “Just the best.” The paces of the music slows, and Julian pulls me close to him. “You were the only good thing then, my dear.  To think that I agreed to trade the memory of that -”

“Hush, Ilya, you remember now.  That’s past.”

“Right, and there’s a future for me now.”  He lifts me into a spin, and I wrap a leg around his back, the high slits in my skirt facilitating the movement.  “I can teach you so many other dances.”

“I look forward to it.”

“That’s still a strange idea - looking forward.  But I, uh, I think I like it. And I owe that to you.  Even knowing what I’ve done, you still extended your hand to me.  Offered me a way forward. . . . To give even a fraction of the kindness you’ve shown me back to the world.”

“So dramatic.  You would have had a future, done something good, with or without me.”

“I don’t know about that,  _ solnishka _ .”

“Well, I believe it.”  The music stops abruptly.  I remain pressed against Julian for a moment, then step back, head tilted back to smile at him.  “So there.” Julian runs a gloved thumb along my jaw, a queer expression on his face. I think he’s about to say something when the music picks back up, faster, this time, with an accordion thrown in for good measure.  He expression breaks into a wide smile and a raucous laugh. 

“Oh, this makes me want to dance on the tables.”

I glance over at the tables.  Procurator Volta has made her way down to the purple end, possibly consuming more than her own weight in food.  There’s more empty space that not, plenty of room to maneuver between what scraps are left.

“Let’s dance on tables then.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

In time with the music, we work our way to the main table.  Julian leaps up and lifts me easily, then we catch the rhythm again.  The other guests begin to gather around the table, clapping in time, some cheering.  Glancing over my shoulder, I see Asra, clapping his hands and laughing with delight, before Julian pulls me in a different direction.  We halt with the music, pressed tight to each other and breathing hard. 

“Well, that was fun.”  He runs his hand down my arm.  

The doors of the room slam open, and for a moment, I think we’re about to be scolded by the chamberlain, or worse, Nadia herself, or the worst - Portia, but it’s a group of the palace staff carrying instruments and offering them to guests.    

Julian takes a vielle from one of the servants and draws the bow across it experimentally, smiling as the instrument thrums in his hands.  “You don’t mind, do you?” He bounds from the table to the floor, beginning a fast, complicated tune - clever hands, indeed. Asra extends a hand to me.  I grab it and pull him to the table with me. He holds his skirt up with one hand and links arms with me, skipping around the scattered and empty dishes, with no particular pattern or aim to our steps, just allowing the music to carry us.

The rest of room joins in, creating a rhythm with claps and stomps and the band recognizes the Ilya’s tune and accompanies him.

I see the flash of red eyes and feel the oppressive weight of envy and hunger before I hear the sibilant hiss.  “Little thief. This is supposed to be mine.”

The tablecloth jerks beneath my feet, and arm still linked with Asra’s, I tumble backwards.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Julian toss the vielle aside and dive to the end of the end of the table, catching me around the waist and blocking Asra from falling directly into the floor.  

Julian sets me back on my feet.  Across the room Lucio's ghost claws at the destroyed table and howls in frustration before turning and dashing out a side door.  Around us, the other guests have taken into a stunned silence. Asra grabs his skirt in one hand. (Nadia's fashion taste may be excellent, but it doesn't account for hunting goats.)  He takes Julian's wrist with the other and rugs us both toward the door. “Come on.”


	2. Hell's Broke Loose in Georgia, and the Devil Deals the Cards

The side door leads directly to the gardens outside.  Lucio's ghost crashes through the hedges into the maze.  After a second’s pause, I push aside the broken branches and climb through, holding them back for Julian and Asra.  We’re too far away from the entrance to the maze. Asra shakes out his skirts, and I feel about for the impotent rage that marks Lucio’s passing.

“He went right.”  I start running again, glad now that I did  _ not _ choose the high heels.  A turned ankle would end this pursuit quickly.  Left, right, straight ahead. I lose track of the turns we make, and with each one Lucio’s presence feels further away.  Finally, I stop, hands on my knees and breathing hard. Asra draws up next to me and shakes his head at my inquiring glance.  

“I’ve lost him too.”

“Ugh.”  I straighten up and take off my mask fanning myself with it.  The sounds of the masque are faint and distant, and without the sun, I’m without a sense of direction.  “And, unless one of you were keeping up, I think we’re just lost.”

“Don’t worry, these mazes are designed - intended - for people to find their way out of.”  Julian buttons up his jacket and smooths the feathers on his costume. Then he reaches over and plucks a stray leaf from Asra’s hair.  “The night’s still young and Lucio was never able to keep quiet for long. We’ll find him. But let’s just enjoy a stroll in the night air for a bit.”

Asra and I look at each other then stare at Julian.

“What?”  He twirls the leaf between his fingers.

“That’s practically optimistic.”

“Who are you and where is Ilya?”

Julian tosses the leaf over his shoulder and offers us each an arm, grinning as he does.  “Just turning over a new leaf.”

Asra and I both groan but take his arms.  I pat his hand. “You’re a dork.”

Julian laughs and stops to kiss the top of my head.  “I know. But you love it.”

Within a few turns, we’re back in familiar territory - the fountain and Asra’s willow tree.  Another masquerade guest is standing underneath, hands on their hands as they study the trunk.  Julian stops, halting Asra and me as he does. “Is that?” His voice rises with excitement. “Dr. Satrinava - is that you?”

The guest turns toward us, head tilted slightly to the side with curiosity.  “Who? Could it be . . .? Ilya, is that you?”

Julian drops our arms and gathers the other guest into an enthusiastic hug, the beak of his mask clatters against the tusks of Dr. Satrinava’s elephant disguise.  Satrinava - one of Nadia’s other sisters, I suppose.

“Ha.  I can’t believe you recognized me with this thing on.”  They step back and take off their mask, pushing bright red hair streaked with white back under a scarf.  “You look well for a dead man. ‘Dia filled me in. I’m still not very happy with her for hanging you. And you -”  They grab his ear and twist it, half play and half in earnest. “You had better be done taking foolish risks - at least for the year.”

“Ow.  I have, I promise.”

Asra and I exchange a skeptical glance, but we’re quickly pulled forward by Julian.  “Let me introduce you. Ahem, Dr. Satrinava this is Asra and Dema, my, er -” He looks back and forth between us helplessly.  

Dr. Satrinava winks at me.  “Yours, yes, I understand. It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.  Nadia has told me about how you’ve assisted her.”

“And this is Dr. Satrinava.”

“You can just call me Nazali, you know.”

“But you taught me almost everything I know about -”

“Ah, imagine what it would be like if you had retained more than half of what I taught you.”  Nazali laughs. “The stories I could tell you. The plague may be over, but Ilya’s antics and eternal.”

“The plague? Over? I wouldn’t count on that.”

I whirl around at the sound of the voice, and Julian tenses beside me, curling his hand into mine.  Asra steps in front of us. I know that voice, and I only know of one person who has that effect on Ilya.  Valdemar’s eerily still figure emerges from hedge, draped in black veil embroidered with a white death’s head.

“What a shame!  Had I found you in any other company . . . but I can be patient.  The wait won’t be much longer.”

“What are you talking about?”  Asra’s voice is low, and I can see energy begin coalesce around his fingers.

“I’m merely looking forward to the return.  It won’t be long now. Perhaps the next plague will set a mortality record.  I certainly hope it does.” Valdemar’s upper body remains perfectly still as they side step Asra, stopping in front of me and tilting their weight forward.  “I wonder how long you’ll survive this time.”

“That’s enough.”  Nazali’s voice is commanding.  “Take your ill omens elsewhere.”

“Dr. Satrinava, don’t -”  Ilya’s warning is cut off by Valdemar.

“Dr. Satrinava?  How fortuitous. I am Quaestor Valdemar.  I led research during the Red Plague. I have many questions about your initial discovery of the plague.  The symptoms, the treatments . . . Perhaps we might converse elsewhere?”

Julian’s hand tightens in mine, but before he can speak Nazali answers.  “Very well, I’ll meet you on the veranda for this discussion.”

“I look forward to it.”  

Still holding their shoulders and head immobile, Valdemar paces backward, melting into the hedges of the maze.  Asra glares until they’re gone, then releases the flickering sparks that have been crackles around his fingertips.  He turns to me, curling one hand around my face and pressing the other to my chest, just about my heart. 

“Are you alright?”

I nod.  “I’m fine.”

Julian lets out the breath he’s been holding and drops my hand.  “Dr. Satrinava, is that really a good idea? Valdemar is . . . they’re . . .”

“I’ll be fine.”  They wave their hand dismissively.  “There are plenty of other people on the veranda.  I’m more worried about you three.”

“Us?  Don’t worry about us,”  Julian protests.

Nazali raises an eyebrow at him, their expression conveying the extent of their worry.  “Take care. All three of you.” They put back on their mask and head out of the maze.

I put my mask back on, and walk to the fountain, trailing my fingers in the water.  Asra joins me, following my motions with his hand and giving me a knowing smile. Julian sits down on the edge of the fountain and watches the two of us.

“Sometimes you two seem like you have your own world.”

“In a way.”  Asra smiles. He trails his fingers across the back of my hand and then grabs Julian’s, bringing it to his lips.  “But I think we can bring you.” 

I lean around Asra and flick water at Julian.  He sputters, then laughs and begins to shrug out of his feathered coat.  “Oh? Is that how this is going to be?”

Asra rolls his eyes and steps back, but I can see him start to unbutton his gloves.  Like the feathers they probably wouldn’t take well to getting soaked. I dig both hands under the surface of the water, preparing for a larger attack, when something stabs into my chest and hooks under my ribs.  I gasp and almost fall face first into the fountain before Asra catches me. 

“What -?

“Lucio.  The trail.  It found me again.”  I stand and shrug off Asra’s hands, letting the sharp pull lead me further into the maze.  “Come on. I want to finish this.”

 

~~~

 

We find Lucio’s ghostly form deep inside the maze well beyond the lights of the palace.

“Had a hissy fit and crawled off to pout?”

“Oh, I’ll have back what’s mine soon enough, little thief.”  Suddenly in front of me, he reaches out with his one arm and traces an unwelcome claw along my throat.  “You’ll be the one looking for a place to pout.”

Julian pulls me back and puts himself between me and Lucio.  “Don’t you realize that if you somehow bring yourself back, the plague comes back with you?  Do you not even care?”

“Oh, Jules, always going on about the plague, don’t be such a killjoy.”

“People will die.  It’s wrong.”

“Wrong?  You want to talk to me about wrong, Jules?  What wouldn’t you do to cure the plague? In fact, what didn’t you do?  Down in that little nest of Valdemar’s -”

Julian’s shoulders drop, almost imperceptibly, but Asra and I both notice.  I wrap my arm around Julian’s waist and press close against him. Asra cuts Lucio’s speech off.

“What do you want?”

“Want?”  The goat figure look over at me and trails a red tongue across his lips.  “Oh, I’ll get what I want soon enough. I have friends now. In the palace.  And a patron. And he sent me to offer you an invitation.”

“An invitation to what?”

“Meet him here, just before midnight.  He has a proposal to discuss with you. Maybe we can all get what we want.  Maybe. Maybe not.”

Lucio looks at me again then snickers - I won't elevate the sound he made to the dignity of a laugh - before fading away.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," Charlie Daniels Band.


	3. Colors Changing Hue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning: moderate flashback/panic attack.

When we return to the palace, the veranda is packed.  Groups of party goers hang over the railing, watching a performance in the garden below.  Svelte acrobats spin ropes of fire in controlled spirals around them. I let the crowd jostle me closer to Asra and busy myself picking off the bits of shrubbery that cling to his costume.  Julian cranes his neck over the crowd. 

“I don’t see Dr. Satrinava.  Or Valdemar.”

The spectators at the railing burst into applause as the acrobats finish their routine.  A group, all wearing dark hooded robes turn, light from the lamps on the veranda reflecting off the glassy red eyes of their beaked masks.  My hands freeze, dropping from Asra’s shoulders as my arms fold tightly around my middle. Smoke curls behind them, as one claps another on the shoulder in apparent mirth.  Why is anyone laughing here?

“I think Nadia is the sister we need to find.”  Asra’s voice sounds far away, like I’m hearing him through water.  “Dema? Oh.”

Fingers close around my upper arm, and I jerk away, pressing my eyes tightly shut against the ashes that I know are about ot begin blowing through the air.

“Dema.”  Asra’s voice.  Closer now. “Look at me.  Come on, sweetheart.”

I force my eyes open.  Asra is kneeling in front of me, brows knitted together in concern over his eyes.  “You’re safe. Just breath. We’re at the palace. The masquerade.” 

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding in a choked sob and lean against him.  Arms fold around my back. “It’s going to be okay.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince both of us.  A third hand touches the back of my head.

“They’re, um, moved along.”  I look back over my shoulder -- Julian, mask off and hair thrown forward over the right side of his face.  “Are you okay? Nevermind, that’s a stupid question.”

“I’ll be alright.  Just give me another minute or so.”  I lean back against Julian’s chest and let him wrap his arms around me.

Asra stands up, smooths his hair back, and puts his mask back on.  “It’s definitely time that we got Nadia involved in this.”

“How do you propose to find her in all -”  Julian waves a hand about at the crowds of people mingling on the veranda and in the garden.  “- this.”

“I have an idea where she might be.”  Asra look down at me; his eyes are still concerned.  “Dema?”

“I’m okay.  I’d like off this veranda anyway.”

“If she’s where I suspect, it might be a nice break from people.  And goats.” Asra loops his arms through mine and Julian’s and pulls us down the stairs and back into the garden.  He turns away from the maze pulling us to a gazebo in a relatively deserted nook. Heavy drapes screen the interior and two guards are posted at the front steps.  I don’t recognize them from the time I’ve spent so far in the palace and I’m wondering how we’re going to talk our way past them, when Portia steps out from behind the curtains, retying the scarf in her hair.

“Oh, Asra, Dema, and . . . you!”  She turns to Julian, eyes flashing and playfully punches his shoulder.  “Couldn’t take the time to tell me where you were going before running off again, could you?”

Julian raises his hands helplessly.  “Hey, I had to get a costume before the masquerade started.”

“Uhuh.”  Portia plants her hands on her hips.  “A likely story. You can tell me the real one later.  Let me guess: intrigues, juicy gossip for milady’s ears only.”  She climbs back up the steps and pushes the curtains aside. “Milady, I know you said you didn’t want to be bothered, but it’s Asra, Dema, and my foolhardy brother.”

Nadia’s voice is clear through the curtains.  “Ah, I thought it might be you three. Come in here.”

The Countess is reclining at a low table.  Cushions are strew about the interior of the gazebo, creating multiple comfortable places to sit.  Portia plops down beside her, steepling her fingers together in anticipation of whatever we have to say.  Nadia gestures for us to make ourselves comfortable. Asra does so immediately, reclining on his side and pulling me down beside him.  Julian hesitates before sitting, folding his long legs awkwardly.

“Dr. Devorak, I see that you have returned to the land of living.  A remarkable feat.”

“Um, yes, well, it’s something of a long story, except really not.”

Asra cuts him off.  “Forgive us, Nadi. That story might have to wait for another time.  The important thing right now is . . .”

“Julian didn’t murder Lucio,”  I cut in there. “There was a ritual three years, to obtain a new body for Lucio, but it went wrong.  He’s the ghost who’s been haunting the palace and your dreams. He’s back to try to finish the ritual.”

“And if he returns, the plague returns.”  Julian’s voice is somber. “He’s the source of it, of the plague.”

Nadia looks the three of us over with a cool gaze.  “I see. Or, at least, I begin to see.” Her eyes come to rest on Asra.  “Now, from the beginning.”

Asra takes a deep breath, and he explains as much as we know to her, forthright except when he dances around the subject of the Lazaret and my death.  I grip his hand tighter in mine as he does, and reach my other hand for Ilya, trying to banish the idea as much on the periphery of my thoughts as Asra was keeping it on the limits of his speech.  He ends with Lucio’s appearance in the garden.

“Well, magicians,”  Nadia’s lovely face has grown progressively more worried while Asra told the tale.  “I confess that I am quite out of my depth. What do you suggest? I certainly can not allow Lucio to complete any clandestine ritual at the Masquerade.”

Asra and I exchange glances.  We’ve been caught up in the past, and what we can recover of it.  We haven’t stopped to think about how to apply that information to the present.

“Well, our original idea was to warn the guests who Lucio might try to use to complete the ritual.  That’s the first thing.”

“But they, um, probably shouldn’t be told the specifics.”  Julian has taken off his mask and runs his hands through his hair.  He’s hunched over, clearly feeling the effects of too many days with little to no rest.  “I mean, a general panic wouldn’t be helpful at this juncture.”

“Keeping them out of Lucio’s wing should do.  The ritual would take place there. Probably, I think.”

Nadia nods.  “At least, that’s a place to start.  I’m distressed by Lucio’s claim to have friends in the palace.  We’ll need to find them out.”

“I have at least one likely suspect.”  Julian’s voice is somewhat muffled by his hands.  “Valdemar.”

“That seems likely.  If possible, I’ll have them detained.  But finding them may be difficult. Portia, be so good as to take care of blocking off Lucio’s wing.”  She rises to her feet and looks over the three of us before bending to touch Asra gently on the shoulder.  “Please, allow me to take the lead on this, at least for the moment. And do avail yourself of this space for a bit.  Surely you’ve earned more than a moments rest.”

“Thank you, Nadi . . . it’s been a long day.”

“Make yourselves at home.”  She graces us with a final smile and exits, the curtains falling closed behind her.  

Asra sighs and removes his mask.  He plucks a grape from the table and holds it to my mouth.  His fingers linger against my lips as I take the grape between my teeth and bite into it, savoring the cool, sweet burst of juice.  I sit up, and take another grape from the table, nudging Julian’s arm and offering it to him. He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, then with a half smile leans forward to take the fruit from my fingers.  “Mmm, that is good.” He flops backwards, arms extended to either side. “But I am completely knackered.” 

“Ah, poor thing.”  I move one of his arms so I can lay down next to him on the cushions.  

“No, seriously, completely, overwhelmingly knackered.”

“We’ll find you some coffee before we go back out, Ilya.  I’m sure Nadi has some in here. Or at least some strong tea.”  Asra has climbed out of the floor and is going through the contents of a mahogany cabinet, as oblivious as ever to the concept of boundaries.  “Oh, I haven’t seen this outside of Prakra.” He sits back down next to me and hands me the unstoppered bottle. It’s filled with tiny sticks of incense.  I hold one out for Julian to smell.

“Hmm, I mean, it’s nice .”  He looks at me then shuts his eyes again.  “But it’s just incense.”

“It’s more than that.”  I cradle the little jar in my hands.  I can feel my magic responding, drawing itself down into my fingertips, closer to whatever substances are compounded into the little sticks.  I scramble upright and shake a stick from the jar holding it out to Asra. “Can you feel that?”

“I can.”  His eyes twinkle at me.  “Shall we light it?”

“Why not?”

He clears space for a incense burner on the table - presumably also borrowed from Nadia’s cabinet of shiny objects, although, I never have figured out the limits of what Asra totes in his bag or in this case his pockets, but he regularly violates the laws of physics - and lights the stick with a snap of his fingers.  Bluish smoke trails off the smoldering, golden tip filling the air with a spicy sweet aroma. I breath deeply, the scent is pleasant, but with each breath my limbs feel lighter as the last remnants of my earlier panic fade. I close my eyes and straighten my back, sighing as I let myself fall into the sensation the drug is creating.  When I open my eyes, Asra is regarding me with a warm grin.

“What is it?”

“Hmm, I think I’ll have to show you.”  He reaches out and draws his fingers up my arm.  Ethereal, evanescent colors follow his touch, swirling on my skin and then fading.  I laugh, then clap my hands over my mouth as colors follow the reverberations of the sound through the gazebo.  I take Asra’s hands in mine and move them between us, watching the interplay of colors mixing from our hands.

“This is lovely.”  Asra cups my face between his hands and kisses me before drawing his hands away slowly, color pouring off his fingertips in waves.    

“Did you know this would happen?”   I lean close to his face, keeping my voice low.

“I imagined something like it, but not quite this.”

“Do you think that Ilya . . . ?”

“I don’t know.  Try.”

I lay back down next to Julian, propping myself up on one arm.  With my other hand, I trace his cheekbones and nose, watching patterns form in wine reds and stormy blues.  Behind Asra shifts around to where he can still reach me and begins to run a hand from my waist along my hips and down my thigh, where it’s exposed by the high slits of the my dress.  I push Julian’s hair out of his face and brush my thumb over his closed eye. He sighs. “What are you two mad things up to now?”

“See if you can see what we see.”

Julian opens his eyes slowly, dark lashes fluttering, then starts upright.  “Holy hell! What -” I pick his hand up in mine, and he tilts his head to the side, fascinated, as colors form between our palms.  “What is this? Asra, Dema - you’re glowing.”

“There’s something in the incense.”  I reach out and loosen the tie around his neck, pushing his shirt aside and tracing a line down his chest.  Another trail of burgundy swirls after my fingers.

“It makes magic visible.  I didn’t know exactly how it would work, or if it would work for you, but, apparently.”

Julian’s fingers touch Asra’s, both resting on my knee. “It’s beautiful.”  He leans across me and rests his forehead against Asra’s for a moment before kissing him.  I lean back on my elbows, content to watch the interplay of color between their auras. It isn’t a long kiss.  When Julian breaks away, his pupils are wide and his smile loopy, whether from lack of sleep, or the smoke, or being close to Asra is anyone’s guess.  He takes my shoulder and pulls me to him, pressing his lips to my forehead. “ _ Prekrasnaya dama. _ ”  

“Do you even know what language you’re speaking anymore, my love?”

He drops his head against my shoulder.  “ _ Nyet _ .  Maybe.  _ Tak ustal. _ ”

I rub the back of Julian’s neck and glance over as Asra who shrugs helplessly.  “I know Prakran, not Nevivon.”

Julian lifts his head off my shoulder and leans his face against my hand.  “ _ Tsveti -  _ The colors, they’re the same as your mask.”

“Hmm, I think we better see about getting you some coffee.”

 

I hum softly.  Julian settles back in the floor, head resting in my lap, watching as the colors respond to the changes in pitch.  I run my fingers through his hair as the lyrics come to mind.

 

“...Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,

Swirling clouds in violet haze...”

 

I recall more lyrics as I continue.  The song finishes with a mournful line, “This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”

While I was singing, Asra had knelt down behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders so that they cross over my chest.  As I finish, he hugs me tightly to him, cheek pressed against mine, tears dampening his face. 

“Asra, don't cry.”

“I -” He shifts his weight and runs one hand along my arm until his fingers are lost along with mine in Ilya’s hair.  Turning his head, he presses a kiss to pulse point on my neck. “You're here. Alive. Beating heart and all.”

“Asra, darling, lie down.”  I turn my head and press my lips to his forehead.  “Rest.”

He smiles faintly at me then curls up on the floor beside Julian.  How many days has it been since any of us slept? I lean over and whisper in Ilya’s ear, waking him up just enough to extract my legs from under his head and replace them with a pillow.  He grumbles, rolls on his side, and throws an arm around Asra, pulling him close. Contented, I lie down, eye to eye with Asra, and wrap my fingers around his. “Rest, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> Part of me wants to add up how many days Julian has gone without sleeping at this point. But it’s just painful.  
> The chapter title and the snippets of lyrics Dema sings are from “Vincent” by Don McLean. And if you aren’t familiar with that song you should go listen to it now. Take some tissues. It usually makes me cry.


	4. If You Meet Me, Have Some Courtesy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested listening: The Black Angels, _Directions to See a Ghost_

 

It seems I’ve only been asleep for a few moments when Asra nudges me awake.  I sit up and stretch my arms over my head, yawning. “It’s close to midnight.”  He presses a cup of tea into my hands. “I made it on the strong side - for Ilya.  Couldn’t find any coffee.”

I blow on the hot liquid and sip it cautiously.  It is strong, but at least, it isn’t bitter and oversteeped which is the mistake most people make when brewing tea for coffee drinkers.  Asra finally gets a bleary eyed Julian to sit up and hands him a cup, only warning him that it isn’t coffee.

“Are we actually going to meet this patron of Lucio’s?”

“I want to check in with Nadia first.”  Asra takes a drink from his own cup and makes a face.  “This is a horrible thing to have done to a Darjeeling.”

“Lucio didn’t even tell us where we’re to meet whoever this is.”

“That’s the other thing, I suspect we will be meeting him whether or not we want to.”  Asra glances over at Julian’s cup and then refills it without comment. “Obviously, this patron is powerful.”

“One of the Major Arcana.”

“I hope not, but I think so.”

I finish my tea, set aside the cup, and stand up.  “Well, let’s get this over with.” I pick up my mask, and then set it back down on the low table.  I’m tired of taking it on and off. I extend a hand to Asra and pull him out of the floor, then leann over and kiss Julian’s forehead.  He’s finished off a second cup of strong tea. “Got enough in you for another adventure.”

“Mmm, you for, yes.”

Asra takes the china cup away from Julian then pulls him upright.  “Then we can curl up in bed for a week. Maybe longer.”

“I do like the sound of that.”

“Thought you might.”

Nadia’s guards have gone elsewhere when we emerge from the gazebo.  The night air has grown cold. I tuck my arms to my torso, not quite shivering.  Julian drapes his feathered jacket around me. The hem falls well past my knees. “Can’t have you cold.”

There’s a rustling in the shrubs behind us.  Asra looks back, then his face breaks into a smile, and he walks forward, arms open in greeting.  “Muriel? What are you doing here?”

Julian leans down and whispers in my ear.  “Who’s this guy?”

“Old friend of Asra’s.  There’s a spell on him. I’ll explain later.”

If possible, Muriel’s expression is more melancholic that the other times I’ve interacted with him.  His massive shoulders hunch forward and his hands hang limp at his side. “Asra, it’s my fault.”

“What?  Of course not.  What happened?”

“It’s Faust.”

“What about Faust?  I should be able sense her.”  Asra’s gaze twitches up and to the right as he casts about mentally for Faust.  Then he cries out and falls to his knees. Two ropes of fires circle around his arms then disappear leaving the sleeves of his costume untouched.  “Asra.” I kneel down next him, and almost embrace him before I notice the angry red burns on his arms beneath the sheer fabric. Instead I touch my hand to his chest and press my forehead to his.  When I look up, Julian and Muriel are standing to opposite sides of us, glaring at each other. I take off Julian’s jacket and wrap it around Asra’s shoulders. 

“You two posturing won’t help a damn thing.  Muriel, what happened?”

The big man sighs and crouches down besides Asra and me. “I let it happen, Asra.  I’m sorry.”

“Muriel . . .”

“Faust went out into the woods.  I didn’t follow.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“And then she was gone.  Someone, something took her.  I let you down again.”

Asra looks at his outspread hands.  “Muriel, you’re here now, in the place you least want to be.  You haven’t let me down.”

“Inanna picked up a trail.  It led here.”

I help Asra to his feet and wrap my arm around his waist.  He drapes one arm around my shoulder, hissing as he does, but letting himself lean on me.  Moving slowly with Julian following close behind us, we follow Inanna back into the hedge maze.  Asra gets steadier on his feet as we go, but keeps me and Julian’s jacket pulled close around him.  Inanna stops at an intersection and sniffs the air in all directions before looking back at Muriel and whining.

“She says the trail goes two ways.”

“Do we split up?”

“Yes.”  Asra tightens the jacket around him.  “We’ll find Faust faster.”

Muriel and I exchange a skeptical look.  It’s getting closer to midnight, and while Muriel may not give a fig about Julian or me, he’ll protect Asra.  I’d rather have more magic users rather than less when we meet Lucio’s patron, especially if Asra’s abilities are impacted by missing Faust. 

“Asra, you realize this is a trap.”

“It doesn't matter.  I've got to find her.”

Finally, Muriel nods at Asra and gives me a look that I can best interpret as a warning to run for my life if I let anything hurt Asra.  He and Inanna turn away to the left.

“You two don't have to come with me. I'd understand if -”

“Don't be foolish, Asra.”  Julian readjusts the jacket around Asra's shoulders.  

“Yes, leave the foolishness to Julian and me.  You'd do the same for us. And Faust is my friend.”  I conjure a glowing orb to light the path in front of us.  It's twisting and narrow, forcing us to walk single file, and I am once again grateful that I did not choose the high heels.  

“Faust loved those lights when she was a baby; she'd always try to squeeze them.”

“How'd that work out for her?”

“She tied herself in a few knots.” Asra sniffs loudly.  I stop and turn around, brushing a tear off his cheek. 

“We're going to find her.” 

He nods but doesn't look convinced.  I squeeze his fingers in mine before turning back around to keep moving forward.

“Asra, tell me more about what Faust was like when she was little.  Before she got big enough to try to hug me to death.”

Julian keeps Asra talking as we continue along the path and shortly has him laughing from remembering Faust's antics.  I smile to myself and concentrate on guiding us. As we've continued, the pathway has grown narrower and overgrown. Finally we come to a split.  I hold up my light, casting it as far as I can down each of the options. Both appear exactly the same.

“What now?  We're not splitting up again.”

“I could try again to sense where Faust is, maybe -”

“No.” Julian and I dismiss Asra's offer in unison.  I continue, “you won't help Faust by getting hurt yourself.”

A raven swoops down and lands on Julian's shoulder, tugging at his hair.  “Ow. What is it, Malak?” Malak flutters his wings, still holding a lock of Julian's hair in his beak.  

“I think he wants us to follow him.”  I look over at Asra, who nods, a somewhat lost expression on his face.  

“It's better than standing here.”

Malak lets go of Julian's hair when it becomes clear that we're following him down the left fork.  Unpruned branches overhang the pathway. I pass under most easily enough, but Asra and Julian are constantly ducking down.  This is wilder than any part of the palace grounds I've explored before. I'm not even sure that we're on the grounds anymore.

The path behind to open up at the same time the hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand on end.  Asra grabs my hand. “Dema, do you feel that?”

“Er, even I feel that.”  Julian's voice is low. “Do we keep going, or . . . ?”

“We've come this far.”  I push a final branch out of the way and stumbled out into a clearing, ignoring Asra's hand on my arm.

 

~~~~

 

The Devil is waiting for us.

I understand the Magician’s amusement now, when I claimed that Asra and I had seen the Devil.  The idea of a goat standing upright on hooves that should be too small to balance on is where the commonalities between Lucio’s current form and the figure of the Devil begin and end.  The figure in the clearing is dignified - elegant, even - draped in a scarf and a perversion of a priest’s stole. Lucio smells of petty, weak malice. The Devil is menace - the threat itself, not some braggart’s boast.  

Worse, Valdemar stands beside him, their fingers still locked in that rigid, unnatural steepling.

Faust writhes in the Devil’s claws, struggling to free herself.   _ Help! _

“Faust!”

Julian grabs Asra before he actually manages to run at Valdemar or the Devil.  I kneel and grab the closest weapon like item I can find - a pitiful stone about the size of my fist.  Not that I’d likely fair any better with a proper implements of destruction. I take a deep breath before speaking and am somewhat surprised when my voice doesn’t quake.  

“Put her down.”

The Devil turns his gaze to me.  “And who are you to tell me what to do?  Ah, yes, my brothers said you were a rude little thing, Dema.  Discourtesy will get you nowhere with me, child.”

He steps closer to us.  I reshape the stone in my hand to something slightly more akin to a weapon; although, what good it will do against any of the three here is something I haven't yet decided.  The Devil sees the magic moving through the rock and laughs. 

“Brave, but foolish.  That’s the other thing I heard about you.”

“Tsk. Tsk.”  Valdemar is suddenly in front of me; though, I would have sworn that they never took a step.  They shake their head slowly from side to side, the black veil fluttering. “Doctor no. 69, out of the three of you it's this tiny thing who's front and center.”

“Why you -”  Julian growls, taking their bait.  I grab his wrist before he can move past me.  I don't want him to antagonize Valdemar. Between them and the Devil, I know which one I'd rather deal with.  I stare into the slitted pupils of the Devil’s eyes.

“What will get me somewhere?”

“Listen to my offer.  No harm will come to you or yours while I am here.”

“Dema, no.”  Asra and Julian's protests are essentially simultaneous.  Julian's hand grasps my shoulder. Asra’s voice is strained.

“He can't lie, Dema, but -”

I cut Asra’s warning off.  The Major Arcana may not tell lies, but between the Magician’s games and the Hanged Man's demands, I already don't trust any of them.  But while I’m a fool, I know the rock in my hand will do no good. “I'm listening.”

“That's right.  I'm sure you can be reasonable.  I must apologize for my subordinate.  He was simply to deliver my invitation to you.  Instead he took it on himself to kidnap poor Faust.  Happily, she hasn’t been harmed in the least.” The Devil strokes her head with a single claw; she shivers and twists away from him.

“Then give her back to us.”

“In good time.  But I possess her right now, and I do have a reputation to maintain.  There’s also the matter of that nasty plague. I hear you may be interested in keeping it from returning?  I’m sure we can work out some mutually agreeable terms.”

“And how do you propose to keep the plague from returning?”

“It is a trivial thing for someone as powerful as I am.  If I say the plague won’t return, it will not.” He strokes his beard.  “I suppose I should only ask for something small in return. How about -”  He points a claw directly at me. “- you, dear Dema?” Julian's hand tightens on my shoulder, and Asra pushes past me.  

“No, if you're going to -”

“I've already dealt with you.”  The Devil flicks his wrist dismissively at Asra.  “This offer is for Dema alone. Join me, for one night, in the realm between and I promise that the plague will never trouble this realm again.  Just one night. I will not harm you. You'll be free to go at sunrise.”

“ _ Solnishka _ , don't.”  Julian's voice is a low whisper in my ear.  He lets go of my skirt and steps forward. “How do we even know you'll keep your end of the deal?”

“I think your lovers know the answer to that question.  But, as a gesture of goodwill -” The Devil drops Faust into the grass at his feet.  

Asra cries out, then kneels to scoop her up as she slithers back to him.  He stands, letting her coil around his neck. “You can't lie, but you don't have to tell the whole truth.  Dema -”

“Must you offer at all.”  Valdemar has remained disquietly still and silent throughout this exchange, hands folded in front of them, mocking the concept of tranquility.  “I'll be quite put out if I don't get to enjoy another plague. And -” They don't move, but I can feel their gaze fix on me through their veil.  “I haven't had the pleasure of dissecting sometime who's died from the plague twice.” They lean forward, the slightest shift in their balance communicating more malevolence than I thought it was possible for the world to contain.

Julian is between the two of us before I can stop him.  “Over my dead body.”

“I didn't think you'd be so good as to volunteer.  Why don't I start on that presently?”

“Now now.”  The Devil extends a hand toward Valdemar.  “I am a being of my word. No harm will come to them - while I am here.”  His gaze returns to me. “You've heard my terms, Dema. A night with me - a trivial price really - and you get to stop the plague from returning.  Prevent all that death, all that suffering. Keep those awful furnaces from firing again, sending smoke into the sky and consuming . . . No, you wouldn't let that happen.  Not when you can stop it.”

As he speaks, I feel my skin grow warm then hot, while a tiny, rational piece of my mind screams that the night is dark and cool.  I shut my eyes but it does no good, the only thing I can see is dancing shades of red, and long beaked figures moving through them.  No. Even if I leave this time, escape to some sort of vagabond, pirates life, I can't let that become someone else's story. “I . . . I accept.”

“Dema, don't!  You don't know what he's planning.”  Asra's voice is desperate. 

The Devil's mouth curls into a smile, revealing sharp canines that no goat should have.  “I knew you'd see reason. Pleasure doing business with you.” He extends a hand to me and curls a claw in a beckoning gesture.  A sudden blinding stab of pain hooks in my sternum and tugs me. I have to choice but to step toward the Devil. 

Julian grabs my arm and cries out in pain and surprise.  The colors of the garden, muted as they already were by the moonlight, fade to shades gray around us.  Julian's body slumps lifeless to the ground followed by mine. Asra cries something unintelligible and kneels beside the two still firms.  Hovering next to him, in whatever form I’m in now, I try to touch his shoulder, but my hand passes through him.

“What the hell?”  Julian is next to me, caught in whatever place this is as well.  “Hey, get away from me. Get away from him!” Freed from the Devil’s restraint, Valdemar seizes a heavy branch from the ground and creeps eagerly toward our unconscious bodies and Asra, who is shaking the shoulders of our prone forms.  Julian swings at Valdemar, but his fist passes through them. He stumbles back confused. “What? Dema, what’s going on?”

I’m crouched next to Asra trying desperately to think of a way to reach him before Valdemar.  “Asra, dammit, listen to me. Asra!”

A twig snaps under Valdemar’s boot.  Asra turns, magic flaring in his hands a moment too late.  Valdemar lands a sharp blow to the side of his head, and he crumples beside our bodies.  I clutch my hands over my mouth, stifling a scream that wouldn’t be heard anyway. Julian makes another attempt to physically stop Valdemar, roaring in frustration as his arms pass through them.  Valdemar titters and claps their hands together before grabbing Julian’s body by the feet and dragging it off into the shrubbery.

My one consolation is that Asra is still out cold as my body dissolves into silvery smoke that rises into the air, and floats toward the palace.  A sickening hollow space is left behind in grass. Still kneeling next to Asra, I push ineffectively at his hair, then tear off my mask and weave my fingers through mine, pulling on it in frustration.  “Fuck!”

Faust pokes her head out of Asra’s sash and nudges at the space where I’m sitting.  Her head passes through my hand, but she sticks out her tongue, exploring the space.   _ “Friend?” _

“Faust?  Faust, can you hear me?”

She turns her head about, looking at the now empty square of garden, then turns back, fixing me with her beady red gaze.   _ “Fuck.” _

“You can hear me!”  My mind races to think of someone who can help.  “Faust, listen, Muriel. You need to get Muriel.”

_ “Big friend?” _

“Yes, big friend.”

Faust tongues at Asra’s face, clearly uneasy about leaving him.  “Faust, I can’t help Asra. Julian can’t either, but Muriel can. Get Muriel.”  With a final look at Asra, Faust slithers away. I feel hands on my shoulders and lean back against Julian, who has moved to sit behind me.  I’m grateful I can at least touch him.

“Faust is smart.  She'll get help.” He says simply.  “But you're going to have to help me understand what's happening.”

“We . . . We're caught between worlds.  It's like a gate, like going to the Hanged Man's realm.  At least, I think.” With a groan, I lean forward, covering my face with my hands.  “I don't really know.”

“Well, damn.  I knew I should have jumped in and challenged him to a fiddling match or something.”

“I fucked up.  I'm sorry.”

“I suspect the creepy goat guy who isn't Lucio was cheating anyway.”

Beside us, Asra groans, and I lean forward trying again - and just as vainly - to touch him.  He rubs his head; then looks around him, eyes going wide as he starts to panic. I clutch my fist to my mouth, teeth pressing against my knuckles until Julian pulls my hand down, twining his fingers around mine.

Inanna bursts through the shrubbery and lopes to Asra, nudging him with her nose and whining.  Absently, he wraps his arms around her neck and buried his face in her fur. “I can't take much more, girl.”  Keeping vigil over Ilya, reliving the Lazaret, losing Faust, this . . . 

Even knowing it's useless, I stretch out my hand again.  Inanna turns her head, sniffing where my fingers should be and growls.  Smart girl. I deserve it.

Muriel follows shortly with Faust wrapped around his massive shoulders.  He goes to Asra and kneels beside him, taking his shoulders and turning him this way and that to check for injuries.

“What happened?”

“We met the Devil.  Dema agreed to some sort of deal.  She and Julian -” He stops and pinches the bridge of his nose, catching his breath.  “She and Julian were pulled between realms. Valdemar hit me in the head and when I came to . . . I thought Lucio was going to try to recreate the ritual that went wrong before, but this, this is something much bigger.”  He extends his arm, letting Faust crawl along it to his shoulders, where she curls up protectively. “I, I don't know what to do.”

“We should get out of here.”  Muriel pulls Asra to his feet.  As he does, Asra’s tarot deck falls from his pocket and to the ground.  Unlike the rest of the hazy, monochromatic nightmare, the cards retain their colors.  I wonder if I can interact with them. 

“What?  No.” Asra kneels back down in the grass to gather the cards.

“Just to regroup.”

I lean forward, reaching for the cards.  My hand meets one, and instead of passing through it, nudges the card forward.  I clap my hands together in victory and quickly fan out the cards in front of me with a practiced gesture.  Asra straightens up and looks around. “Dema?”

I find the card I want and separate it from the rest.  The High Priestess -- Nadia’s card. I don’t know what she can do, but at this point, she -- and perhaps her sisters -- are our best resource.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing to take it back to the sixties and seventies with this chapter’s music references!  
> There’s another allusion (good thing I don’t teach English because I can’t remember the technical difference between reference and allusion) to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” And for giggles, a quick reference to “Alice’s Restaurant” by Arlo Guthrie, even though it’s not yet the right time of the year. Extra credit if you caught that one.  
> Chapter title is - obviously - from “Sympathy for the Devil” by the Rolling Stones.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read. 
> 
> Notes:  
> Title is from Devotchka, "Whiskey Breath"


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